Wild Horses by B.J. Daniels

Author:B.J. Daniels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQN Books
Published: 2014-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

UNABLE TO STAND another minute in the house with Angelina, the disproving looks of his daughters and the chance that his dead first wife might show up at his door, Buckmaster drove into Beartooth to the Range Rider.

The bar was empty this time of day, which suited him just fine.

Clete poured him a Scotch and said, “Haven’t seen you for a while.”

He figured everyone in town already knew about Sarah. “I’ve never needed a drink more badly than I do right now. I’m sure you heard I now have two wives.”

“I wouldn’t wish that on any man.”

“You have no idea,” he said, and took a drink. Angelina had been so strong and capable before this. Now, she was acting jealous and possessive and downright paranoid. It didn’t help that she’d overheard him say Sarah was the only woman he’d ever loved.

“Women,” he said, drained his glass and slid it back to Clete. “Right now, I don’t want either of them.”

“Careful, you might get your wish.”

“Can you believe my daughters are angry with me over all this?” he asked as Clete placed another Scotch on the cocktail napkin in front of him.

The bar was cool and dark. He hoped it stayed empty because he didn’t want to leave.

“I’ve never understood women,” Clete said. “If you find out what they want, let me know.”

Buckmaster shook his head. “My daughters don’t understand why I don’t want to see her. My first wife, the one back from the dead. Why would I want to after everything she’s put me through?”

“You must be curious, though, right?”

He hated to admit it. “I’m too angry with her. How could she abandon her own children?”

“She must not have been in her right mind. All she had was the clothes on her back, right?”

Buckmaster frowned as he realized Clete had a point. “Her purse was found in her car so she didn’t even have any money. At least, none that I knew of.”

“If she had a credit card and used it...”

“I would have known she was alive.” He looked down at the amber of the Scotch, the first drink warming him inside, but also making him think clearer than he had since hearing the news.

“So how did she survive?”

“That old hermit, what’s his name?”

“Lester Halverson?”

Buckmaster knew there was no keeping a lid on any of this. The press would get the whole story and he was almost looking forward to it. At least he would know the truth. He sure as hell couldn’t depend on Sarah to tell him the truth.

“He found her, dried her clothes, kept her from dying of hypothermia, but then she got dressed and took off with someone in the middle of the night. At least, that’s his story, according to the sheriff.”

“So someone picked her up from Halverson’s house?”

Another man. Buckmaster hadn’t considered this and wondered why it had taken him so long to put the pieces together.

He pushed the Scotch away as he dug out his cell phone. Was it

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